


After the First Kiss

by daydreamblvr6



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Porn Without Plot, Sex, a demisexual virgin, a thing i've done before so be gentle okay, also clark is a virgin, and lois god bless her is not, and this isn't super relevant here but clark's totally a sub and lois is totally a dom, but anyway the actual point of tags:, i just needed to say that, i'm kinda surprised that dawn of justice is already a fandom option, like we're talking, so fun basically is what i'm getting at, which is not, y'know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 03:10:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4418861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamblvr6/pseuds/daydreamblvr6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lois and Clark make love. Set during Dawn of Justice at some point (or so go my hopes).</p><p> </p><p>  <i>As he responds to her, mouth opening to her like every other part of him always has, she pushes gently on his shoulders, bringing him down to the floor with her on top, the movement only graceful because he's who he is.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	After the First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even write fanfiction anymore I don't know how I got here.
> 
> Also I'm a virgin so if there's anything in here that you're reading and you're like "Um, that's not, yeah that's not how that would go" just blame it on Clark's alien physiology or something okay, just have mercy.

They’ve been getting undressed for the past hour, Lois stopping to clean all the places Clark is losing blood, which is a lot. She’s uncomfortable with his injuries, worried, but he’s fascinated. It had taken her the half hour prior to peel him away from her bathroom mirror, where he’d stood staring at his black eye and bruised cheek, his split lip and bloody teeth. He is now the human -- wait no, oh it’s funny how he can still forget he isn’t one of them -- the  _alien_  equivalent of that trucker’s semi, impaled six ways to Sunday. Or of Metropolis, after Zod. He knows Luthor isn’t missing the metaphor.

But even if it’s caused by Luthor’s hand, blood tastes sweet to Clark, like being of them and not above them. He never wanted to be above them, Jor-El’s dogma be damned, but now when anybody calls for him -- even his mom, even Lois -- they’re looking up. But he is striving for the sun in the same way they all are, Bruce Wayne included: half-blind and desperate, bleeding.

His blood’s on Lois now; she’s speckled with it, wearing it like holy water, but she’s the sacred thing. She’s the most sacred thing he’s ever seen, ever felt so he falls to his knees in front of her, arms around her waist and face in her stomach. She holds him like he's as fragile as only she knows he is. Her gentle touch at his face is a relief, the safety to crumble that he finds only here and on his mother's front porch.

She breathes deeps as she pushes her fingers into his hair, tugging to get him to lean back and loosen his grip so she can sink to her knees, too. She'd planned to get them into the bedroom for this -- her king size bed is new, bought for this purpose -- but there's no more waiting to be done.

"Clark," she says.

"Kal-El," she adds, because he hasn't heard it from anyone's tongue but Luthor's since he lost Jor-El and he deserves to have his heritage, to be the immigrant child of the stars as much as the son of the best parents Earth had to offer.

He sobs once to hear it, dry against the hollow of her throat. Clark's so easily wounded, Lois thinks, worried into illness over him. Luthor and the Batman and all the others, the media, the government, the mobs, have never gotten close to the heart that’s beating they've been aiming to stop. Instead of striking a good man who’s always out of reach of himself, they've swung at a god and missed Clark Kent entirely. Although Luthor's come closer than most and Lois is afraid -- so afraid that she's run from the Planet building calling Clark's name anytime she's gone 10 minutes without sight of him for the past two weeks -- that he'll come even closer before this is over.

Her fear causes her hands to tremble as she brings them again to Clark's face to kiss him tenderly. As he responds to her, mouth opening to her like every other part of him always has, she pushes gently on his shoulders, bringing him down to the floor with her on top, the movement only graceful because he's who he is.

He's beautiful beneath her and he's having the same thought about her above him, framed by her hair, all strength and crusade. She is everything, everything he needs.

"Help me," he asks, through his bloody teeth and it means a dozen things, but she deals with the immediate one first.

"Like we talked about?" She shifts atop him -- he's hard and oh god, he feels good against her even at the odd angle -- watching him arch beneath her, head thrown back, neck and chest bared. It'll be his first time and for all her assurances that they're puzzle pieces in this way just like every other, he'd still wanted to be led. He nods to her and so she leads.

With deliberateness, she picks up his hands from where they lightly rest atop her thighs and brings one to her breast and one to her hip, pressing his hands into her with her own. She sighs, a happy hum, when he kneads her breast gently, smiling down at him smiling up at her. He slides a thumb over her nipple and she leans into it, leans down onto him until they're pressed together chest-to-chest with his hand stuck in between. His hips come up of their own accord, pressing him even closer against her. He's breathing heavy already and god, oh god, he's incredible and she loves him. She kisses his jaw sloppily, avoiding his mouth because she wants to hear him keep breathing like that. The hand on her hip falls around the curve of her ass.

All Clark can think -- all Clark can  _ever_  think -- is that for all Luthor's blubbering about him being a god, Lois is the only divine thing on this planet. How anyone can miss it is farther from his comprehension than Krypton is from his grasp.

He slides his hand out from between their bodies to curl his arm around Lois' back. His reach extends all the way around to the side of her other breast and he tenderly brushes the soft skin he finds there, still breathing hard enough to blow strands of her hair up into the air. Lois kisses his neck now, the hollow of his throat, and pushes her own hand between them, reaching the tip of his cock and the shock of her touch brings his hips off the floor again, tipping her off him to the side. He jolts to catch her before she hits the floor and they laugh together, mixing kisses between breaths.

Still beaming with joy, she reaches for him again, no longer hindered by their bodies, and wraps her hand around his length. He laughs deep at the thrill of this, of her, of her radiance and his opportunity to be bathed in it, engulfed by it. At her nod, he reaches for the leg of the nearby table (the presence of which he'd utterly forgotten) and shakes it to bring down the condoms on the tabletop. When one lands, he grabs it and hands it to her. His trust is entire, absolute, as apparent on his features as the bruises and cuts he bears. It has always been exactly this way, since the beginning of everything, Lois thinks, as disinclined as she is to thoughts that grandiose. The trust is mutual, of course. The love is too.

Condom in hand, she licks down his body to his hipbones, nosing at them and the insides of his thighs. In those several moments she avoids touching him where she know's he'd like it best, he doesn't become impatient, just grateful, murmuring, "Thank you, Lois, thank you" without even realizing it. He means it for more than a dozen things and she kisses the underside of his cock in acknowledgement, bringing him to silence again before tearing the condom wrapper open and rolling it slowly down him. Clark quivers beneath her.

"Okay," she says, and oh, she's breathing hard now, too. "Okay, now touch here."

The instructions are accompanied by her hand drawing one of his between her legs. His hands slide through her folds easily, wet as she is, and she tries to guide his index and middle finger to her clit, but he's already there, making circles and watching her face.

"Oh," she moans without meaning to and he says, "Lois?" small and breathy, pausing his ministrations.

"Yeah," she follows up, realizing that she has to qualify her reaction for him, he's so good, so good, too good for everyone. "Go," she continues, "keep, go."

He smiles, but she can barely see it with her eyes as close to closed as they are. His fingers begin working again and she pushes against him, wanting him to press a little harder but unable to say it right now. Clark picks up the hint and as he cups his other hand around her cheek, she comes, jack knifing over him, trying to bend in half around the pleasure. That hand slips into her hair, resting at the nape of her neck and his other continues to rub her clit as she shakes above him, coming down like she's slipping down a mountainside. When she huffs out the breath she's been holding through her climax, his fingers rest. She lays back down on him, taking the time she needs to gather herself again with her head tucked beneath his chin. He thinks  _I could stay here forever_  and would, if Lois could.

"All right," Lois says when she can, dopey and blissed and smiling. She looks like the sun to Clark and he reaches for her like it. "Now then."

"Now then," he repeats, grinning in a way she's only seen him do a handful of times. She reaches one more time for his cock, sitting up to hover over him and guide him into her. He gasps as he enters, feels like saying prayers to her, but holds her hand instead.

Clark's eyes are closed and it's only by the willpower she's famous for that Lois' are open. She refuses to miss the way he's smiling now, head thrown back again and teeth, finally, no longer bloody. He's the most singularly real thing to her, not just now when he's the only thing in every sense she has and starting to  _move_ , but always.

"Yes," she encourages him as his hips roll beneath her.

"Yes," she repeats as she starts to move with him and now the backs of his fingers rub gently, gently on her throbbing clit. "So good, Clark, Kal-El, sweetheart, so good."

His other hand is back at her breast, her hand still entangled with it, but he has no brainpower to get it to do anything else. Lois above him, moving with him is a glorious too much on his consciousness. He wants to be kissing her too, but he can't get it done, couldn't breathe like that anyway and he needs to, needs to be able to follow one gasp with another and another and oh, was this what it felt like to travel through the stars at the speed of light, he wonders and then decides, shivering against the start of Lois' climax as his shudders to its end, that no, this is so, so much better, because this is Lois. How could the stars ever compare?

**Author's Note:**

> [find me on tumblr](http://www.themartyrsthesaintsthesaviors.tumblr.com)


End file.
